RITRATTI ITALIANI... PORTRAITS OF ITALY. THESE ARE MY LITTLE STORIES AND THOUGHTS, WRITTEN IN BOTH ENGLISH AND ITALIAN, OF THE TIMES I'VE SPENT NELLA BELLA ITALIA.

Thursday, July 24, 2008

A Postcard From Camogli/Una cartolina da Camogli

The little grey cat sits in the window, two stories above the street.He looks out over the turquoise blue waters of the LigurianSea and the collection of boats bobbing in the marina.He hasn’t yet knocked over the pot of flowers on the windowsill next to him, or disturbed the lace curtains.And he won't, because this kitten is not real.He, the flowers, curtains, in fact the entire window, are a trompe l'oi painting on the smooth stucco façade of the building.

Welcome to Camogli, a whimsical city in the center of the Ligurian coast.The six- and seven-story, pastel-colored buildings that line the harbor are centuries old, and at one time they served as a defense against pirates.Today, they line the pebbly beach and house restaurants and shops for the thousands of tourists who visit.And most amazingly, much like my little cat, almost everything on these buildings has been painted on.Many of the windows are artificial, as are the signs to the shops.There is painted stone and woodwork everywhere, and I noticed a few instances of painted laundry.Some buildings have elaborate architectural features that would be impossible were they not created in paint.The more I looked, the more I saw, and the more I saw, the more I was enchanted.

Walking through a narrow alley I run my hands along the stucco.The sense of depth and shadowing on the large painted stones is completely realistic, but the wall feels flat beneath my hands.At the end of this alley there is a small clearing which holds two gigantic frying pans.The diameter of each is 4 meters; they are they largest frying pans in the world. And they are real, not painted. They will be taken out and used the second weekend of May each year for the fish fry festival. In Camogli, the absurd is real, and the normal is unreal.

Sitting on a small table outside a focacceteria, I sample the food the region is famous for.This flat bread is bigger than the biggest pizza I have ever eaten.It's warm and cheesy and incredible. I notice that the drainpipe on the building next to me is not real, neither is the door next to the restaurant. But the taste and smell of the focaccia are.

I never did find out why or when Camogli started this tradition.The work involved to maintain the paintings in the sea air must be time-consuming and difficult.Yet, everything is in fresh and perfect condition.I have only one explanation.It must make the residents as happy as it makes me.It must please them to both create this masterpiece of a town, and to live within their artwork.What I love most about Camogli is how its residents have invented their own reality here, how they took a paint brush and changed the world around them.I could not help but ponder for a moment, while sitting at that small table, watching the boats bob in the turquoise water, how I would paint the world around me if I could.What would I put in my windows?What would you?

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About Me

Life is strange... How else can you explain how a bottle of red table wine could set into motion a series of wonderful events that have brought me here. Read my stories, in English or Italian, as you wish, come vuoi, and enjoy them. Grazie.